On Game
by Paceismyhero
Summary: "After five years, one would expect her to be getting the hang of the separation, but it was actually starting to get worse. But, much like Noah, Rachel would never make him choose between her and basketball. After all, he'd loved the game before he'd ever loved her." Two-part sequel to "Game On" set 5 years later. Rated M for good stuff. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This sequel is something I've been wanting to do since, well ... since I posted the first part. Unfortunately, this one isn't anywhere near the level of porn that one was - which I (creepily) find disappointing, but hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

For those of you who haven't read the first one, I highly recommend it because this one would basically make no sense outside of a basic story (those nuances of character and plot would be lost). It was called Game On, which reminds me: Sorry about the title. I honestly couldn't think of anything better and "Game On 2" seemed silly. :)

As always, thanks for reading (and reviewing - hint hint)!

* * *

Rachel watched the cameraman silently count down, pointing to the host with the final cue. She widened her smile just a little, angling her body more toward the middle-aged man, who'd also plastered on his own small grin after clearing his throat. It wasn't as if they'd sat in silence during the entirety of the commercial break, but they definitely both knew better than to be anything but ecstatic to be at that particular interview at that particular moment.

"So we're back with Broadway _superstar_ Rachel Berry."

"... I don't know about that," Rachel interjected with a light laugh.

"Well, we're going to have to agree to disagree," the host joked playfully. "When we learned of the interview, we asked viewers to send us their questions and, I must say, the response was overwhelming."

"I'm flattered," she responded honestly, sitting a little straighter in her chair. She'd done enough interviews in her time to know exactly what to expect - and yet knew better than to assume anything. Questions from fans were always a crapshoot, but they were also the perfect opportunity for the show's producers to include questions that she'd otherwise avoid answering. When they come from a fan, it required a bit more finesse to avoid the question otherwise she'd look like an ungrateful diva.

"The first question comes from Cynthia in Long Island," he read off the card. "Cynthia wants to know, 'What has been your favorite role to play so far?'."

"What a great question!" Rachel exclaimed, mostly to give herself a moment to formulate an articulate response.

"Unfortunately we don't have all day to spend with you, so we only chose the best."

Rachel laughed at the host, reaching across herself to push against his knee in her own attempt to flirt (albeit minimally) back with him. They'd already spoke during the break about how he couldn't wait to go home because it was his anniversary with his wife and they were leaving for an all-inclusive beach vacation. But, again, they both had a part to play while on camera.

"Each role certainly holds a special place in my heart, for various reasons. For instance, Penelope was my first lead role on Broadway, so naturally I still hold a strong love for that character. And I still can't believe I was able to originate the role of Jasmine in the production of Aladdin, playing such a beloved character for so long - and winning a Tony for it, no less!"

Rachel beamed, adding, "But I'm also very excited about the new direction of my career. I've always been very involved in writing original music and it's an honor to work with such an amazing ensemble of cast and crew members for the new show."

"Where you are not only playing the lead character, but also contributed to nearly half of the songs being performed."

"It's a lot of work, but I am completely confident that it will all be worth it."

"Sleep be damned?"

Rachel tipped her head back to laugh, answering in a small shrug of her one shoulder. The truth was, staying busy helped keep her mind off less productive things. Like how the odds tipped in disaster's favor at each new cross-country roadtrip or how lonely the house seemed without a certain occupant away on said road trips. Honestly, if she didn't like basketball when she was younger (despite her father's many attempts to get her to at least understand the game), then dating a starting forward on a professional team made her _detest_ the game.

"OK, our next question comes from Tyler in South Beach. Tyler says, and I'm quoting, 'Rachel Berry is the sexiest woman alive. Chicks with tattoos are so hot!'."

Rachel felt herself blush even as she laughed. "I don't believe that was a question."

"No, but we got so many questions regarding your tattoos that I had to choose the best one to butter you up with." The host grinned wickedly. "Word on the street is that you recently got a new one. Bringing your total to 12, is that right?" He waited for Rachel to nod, though she wasn't necessarily keeping track. "Are you addicted to them or …"

"Oh, no." Rachel shook her head, a welcoming smile on her face and in her tone. "It seems like a lot, but each one represents either a treasured memory or honors someone or something important in my life."

"And the newest tattoo? Which one is it?"

She considered the question for only a moment, flashbacks of the last time she'd conversed with someone for so long about her tattoos quickly coursing through her mind. She could easily recall the warmth of Noah's touch lingering on her skin as he examined each newly revealed marking. There had been something in his touch, even back then, that expressed so much more than whatever it was he was saying; it was desperate but powerful, gentle but possessive. Paired with his voice, which had been so gruff and so raw (both in tone and in the words he spoke), Rachel nearly shivered at just the memory.

"Both, I suppose," she finally answered, her voice coy.

"We're almost out of time, but is there any chance we can get our eyes on this new ink?"

Rachel smiled nervously, feeling the blush rise onto her cheeks. "I'm fairly certain your wife would have a problem with that." She giggled at the way his eyes widened, adding, "And the FCC."

"Well, then …"

The host led them out of the interview, thanking Rachel for her time again and wishing her well in the new endeavor. It seemed silly, but she appreciated the sentiment. The show was already reaching critical acclaim even before the first real run, but the assurance that every seat wouldn't be completely empty was always welcome. Not that she had to worry about the theater having absolutely no attendants. Her fathers had already booked front row seats for more than one showing, and Kurt and Blaine were equally eager. Finn had even said he and Santana already got a babysitter for their little one, months in advance.

Plus, Noah had promised to _try_ to pencil her in.

She smiled the instant her mind wandered back to thoughts of her boyfriend - even though they started with her rolling her eyes at his lame attempts to rile her up. He was usually very successful, something that made her want to scream at the top of her lungs (but she never would since it was terrible for her voice). Still, he was due home in just a few days after an extremely long (in her eyes) stint of road games. And even though she knew they would probably end up fighting about something only a few hours after he'd returned, she couldn't be more thrilled.

It was hard to imagine five years ago that she'd be where she was today. Not professionally, of course; she was destined for a Tony since she was two and she'd earned the award. But, realistically, Rachel had never thought she'd be able to balance both worlds. Even in high school she'd had trouble committing herself to more than just the stage. Her personal life should be a disaster given the time and dedication given to her career, and she'd be the first to admit her surprise at how long she'd maintained such a successful career in addition to a committed relationship - especially with someone like Noah and _especially_ after their first encounter.

Despite her frequent attempts to lie whenever his ego inflated beyond the means of its confines, Rachel had been attracted to Noah from the very beginning. He likewise, which he never denies - though she doesn't necessarily let that get him off the hook for anything; his standards weren't particularly high back in the day. It wasn't just his physicality, either, but she'd liked the way he carried himself. She'd been accused of being overly confident, but there was something about seeing it on a man that drove her crazy - a good and a bad thing, as he'd passed the point of confident into arrogant a few times (that night); those times her craziness was less lust-induced and more centered on wishing him dead, which he infuriatingly enough only found hilarious.

Through it all, though, they had a chemistry that was undeniable. The ease of their conversations was new to Rachel, something she'd never experienced with anyone else; she was always very aware of what she was saying and how the other person might interpret her words (even if she'd never perfected her filter in terms of people's feelings). With Noah, it felt completely natural to talk freely, as she trusted him not only to keep whatever they'd discussed between them but also knew he was being just as open. Which, as she knew now, was very uncommon; Noah was as blunt as a butter knife, but he was very guarded with things that mattered - to everyone but her.

A couple of years ago, Noah had admitted that he probably would have told her everything she'd asked even without the tattoo question game. It was on their anniversary, so it made sense for him to be openly reminiscing about their night together back then, but it had also been the first time Rachel had heard the words _make love_ ever come out of his mouth (outside of his go-to response, "Make love, not war," anytime she was mad at him for something). Even back then, back when they'd silently agreed to keep it a one-time thing, Rachel knew what they were doing had evolved into something much more intimate; she'd been in relationships before - sexual ones - and nothing had ever compared to the feelings she got when she'd been with Noah.

Again, chemistry. It was so present between them that it was almost tangible. A spark ignited when they touched, mountains moved to let them be closer, time stopped so they'd have longer to be together. That night had felt like it lasted an entire week and yet seemed to end far too soon, which was probably why they'd both never let it really end. One night turned into one long weekend that turned into the most agonizing week apart until one of them (both say it was the other) gave in - gave in to temptation, gave in to feelings they each swore weren't possible after such a short time together.

Yet, five years later, those feelings were only the beginning. It sounded so cliche and much too sentimental for her ever to admit to him, but Rachel loved Noah more and more every day. Even when she wanted to throw one of his own basketballs at his perfectly chiseled face, she loved him. She loved him for the way he made her feel, so many new emotions evoked in her throughout the years that she couldn't believe she'd ever lived without some of them. She loved him for how easily he fit into her life despite the fact that they couldn't be more different from one another. But, mostly, she loved him for how he'd never made her choose between him or her career.

Many of the other basketball players' wives seemed to despise Rachel, almost looking down on her for not dedicating all of herself to Noah. They'd often give very spiteful, condescending advice about how a man like him needed watched or how she should demand something more permanent between them to at least give him a reason to be faithful. During one event, they'd basically interrogated her about whether she'd quit her work if they ever were to have children, as if any of them were actually raising their own kids instead of hiring a nanny to do so - giving them more time to shop and hire private investigators to track their mates, she'd concluded.

Needless to say, Rachel did not frequent many of team gatherings; she was taught to say nothing when she had nothing nice to say, and she certainly had nothing to say to a group of women who seemed to be more interested in their partners' paychecks and endorsements than the actual person under the jersey. She, however, loved Noah, unconditionally. She trusted him to be on the road with all the temptations she knew that came with it, and she tried not to think about all the women she knew that must offer themselves to him on any given night. She wasn't naive enough to think there weren't any, but she also wasn't insecure enough to tail him like a prisoner out on parole.

_Nor_ did she feel she had any right to demand anything from him that he hadn't already given. Their life together might not be conventional, but they were both happy. They had separate lives that were important to both of them and that they loved, but when the timing worked and they were together, they were completely caught up in each other. She didn't need a ring to know they were on the same page, but she'd also been thinking a lot lately about that unasked ultimatum. She was pretty sure he'd never ask - or even consider asking - mostly because he thought it wouldn't go his way, but she was starting to realize her decision would be 100% in his favor.

Case in point: She was walking home from an interview to promote her new show that she was very heavily involved in, and yet she'd spent the entire time thinking about her boyfriend. Granted, he'd been gone a long time, but it didn't take much for her to miss him these days. The phone calls only seemed to make it worse, his distance all too prevalent even though his voice was right in her ear. After five years, one would expect her to be getting the hang of the separation, but it was actually starting to get worse. But, much like Noah, Rachel would never make him choose between her and basketball. After all, he'd loved the game before he'd ever loved her.

Or at least that's what she'd assumed before she opened the front door of their apartment and saw his luggage resting by the side table.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Here I was thinking I was the only one who really loved the first part of this series and ... wow. The response to the sequel has made me even more nervous about this one not living up to the sexual chemistry of the first and disappointing everyone, but I hope y'all enjoy this final installment. Fair warning: This part of the sequel is basically the entire reason it is rated M (though I still maintain NOT as M as the first story). So, ya know. Look away if you should.

As always, special thanks to those who read and review!

* * *

Puck looked up from his magazine as soon as he heard the keys make contact with the door. To say he was eager to see her would have been the understatement of the year. He hadn't spent God knew how long on a commercial flight sitting coach next to some asshole who needed an entire tin of Altoids shoved down his throat (mostly to shut him up, though it _might_ have helped the bad breath issue) for _fun_. He'd left the arena straight after the team's last game, forging the night's stay at the swank hotel and private jet flight back to the city because he legit might have killed himself/someone if he had to have gone one more _hour_ without seeing her.

"Sup, babe?" Puck greeted her casually, though his hurried steps from the living room to where she was all but cemented in the foyer were anything but nonchalant. "Do you always look this good?" He questioned in pursuit, his eyes raking over her. "It's been too fuckin' long. Get naked."

Rachel shook her head of what clearly wasn't a dream, forcing her brain to catch up. "Wh-what are you doing home?"

The answer wasn't as important as kissing her. In fact, at that moment _nothing_ was more important than kissing her. Phone sex was great and all (he made sure it was since it had taken him a damn year to get her to try it - and by the by, when she did, she totally dug it. Score) but nothing compared to her. He loved tangling his hands in the long strands of her dark hair, letting them get lost in the silkiness while he just got lost in _her_. Lost in the hint of her chapstick sticking to his lips. Lost in the rhythm of their tongues sliding together. Lost in the feel of her skin underneath his hands and the way he could feel her pulse pound underneath the pads of his fingers.

"What part of 'get naked' don'tcha understand?" He asked, his breath ragged as his hands moved to find the hidden zipper on the dress she was wearing.

"Noah," her admonishment was shallow and weak, followed by an obvious moan the second he made contact with the newly exposed skin of her bare back. "I can't even put into words how happy I am you're home early, but tonight is Kurt's party." She detached herself enough where she could look into his eyes, but not enough to keep either of them from having their hands on the other. "I need to get ready or I'm going to be late."

"I'm just helpin' ya get ready faster," he reasoned, pushing the straps of her dress off her shoulders so the garment pooled at her feet. He groaned in appreciation. "Fuck, I've missed you."

Rachel hiccuped at the sentiment, mostly because it was paired with his urgent touch. She'd spent the entire afternoon thinking about him and wanting nothing more than for him to be home so they could do exactly what he was proposing, but she had made a promise to her friend. Noah knew all about it, too, as he'd joked more than once about not being sorry one bit that he was going to miss the party courtesy of his profession. He got along with her friends well enough, but even after years together, they both preferred to spend their time alone with one another.

"You know this isn't helping." Her head fell back even though her words had surprisingly managed to come out as firm as she'd meant them. "Kurt will kill me if I'm late."

"I'm not scared of Hummel," he stated defiantly, maneuvering her by the press of his lips until she'd stepped back so much that her back hit the wall. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her neck, feeling her pulse skip through the thin flesh. Slowly, his right hand dropped from her hip, rounding over her perfectly taut ass and tickling the underside to encourage her leg to lift. She complied without protest, causing Puck to grin. "Let's see if we can't find this new tat."

Rachel released a shallow laugh, tightening her leg's hold around his waist. "Are you spying on me?"

"Don't need spies when the whole damn world is watchin' your every move," he reminded her, pride in his tone before it lowered temptingly, "And I like the way you move."

"If I hadn't been thinking about you and _this_ all afternoon, I wouldn't let you bed me with such a lame line."

"Who said anything about a bed?" Puck swallowed her whine when he made his intentions much clearer than his words. Their bed was way too far away and he'd waited long enough. He could feel the heat radiating from her core and hoped she wasn't exaggerating when she said that she'd been thinking about this as much as he had. He was well beyond the point of being patient enough for a lot of foreplay, and he needed her to be just as eager to get on with the show.

His tongue rolled languidly over hers once more before he pulled away, his lungs filling with a much needed breath of air. He'd intended to plunge right back in once his oxygen level wasn't as dangerously low, but his intentions were sidetracked by the feel of her silky smooth skin. She was a knockout and deserved more than a quickie in the foyer of their apartment; even if she did seem like a willing participant, the least he could do was be gentlemanly enough to remove her underwear instead of just pushing it to the side.

"Noah," she hissed, her eyes fluttering down to watch his reaction when he dipped down the wide, lacey band of her panties.

"Fuck," he drawled, letting the piece of fabric fall while his eyes stayed trained on what had been hidden underneath. He dropped to his knees, his thumb brushing over the small spot gently as he noted the slightly pink edges and how harsh it seemed against the contrast of her beautiful, tanned skin. She'd chosen what he'd considered one of the hottest spots for a tattoo, so low on her hip that it was more in the pelvic area than not. And as if that didn't make it obvious the tattoo was meant for his eyes only, then the inked _#20_ certainly proved that it was all for him.

Rachel hiccuped into the resulting assault, his lips fusing to the underside of her knee, her inner thigh and then to the spot she needed him most. Her legs weakened under the animalistic hold he had on her, her eyes shut tight as he sucked on her tender bundle of nerves and only opening again when he continued his climb back to his feet. She managed to pry his shirt off while he undid his pants, the garments falling to his ankles while he pushed her back against the wall.

"Mine," he growled, hoisting her up and onto him in nearly the same second. Her hot giggle did shit to his head, making him act even more possessive than he'd already felt. _This_ was exactly why none of the other guys gave him shit for not fucking around on the road. They knew Rachel was beautiful, sexy, hot, edgy, smart, classy, strong … every God damn glowing adjective he could think of. And she was _his_. "Always."

She hummed her affirmation, her arms curling around his neck as their pace grew more erratic. Her head tipped back a little, her mouth opening on a gasp when he rocked against her just right. She cried out when he did it again, and again, and again before running his teeth over the column of her throat. She felt herself shiver right before her insides started to melt, his name dripping from her lips like honey as they each came undone.

"Shit." His head fell with a heavy thud against the wall, his breathing labored and his hold on her loosening with each hard exhale. As soon as her feet were on the ground, though, Rachel made a move to leave and fuck that noise. "Where ya think you're goin'?"

"As I'd explained before you mauled me," she began with a teasing lilt, everything else about her making it quite clear she hadn't minded the change of plans at all, "I need to get ready for Kurt's party. Now that I have to add a shower, I'm certain to be target for an evening of ridicule."

"So skip it," he suggested, pushing her back against the wall and between his arms. Her eyes got all judgmental, but they were still kind of hazy from the sex, so he rolled with it. "Or let's shower together."

She giggled lightly, his expression so earnest. "To save time the way you 'saved time' by helping me undress? A mere 10 feet from the doorway, I might remind you."

"I know. I can't believe you let me 'bed' you so easily," he mocked, using air quotations just like she had to add to it, though it gave her the opportunity to sneak away from him.

"Today or five years ago?" She joked lightly while making her way to the staircase.

"S'been awhile, hasn't it?"

She stopped on just the first stair, turning at the wonder in his tone. She was surprised to see he wasn't focused entirely on her still-naked frame. Instead, he seemed completely lost in thought, which actually made her heart beat faster than if she'd caught him ogling her. As did the intensity in his eyes when he neared her, his hands taking hers before she bent down to brush her lips across his. It was meant to be a chaste kiss, a physical reminder that she never took him or the emotions he allowed her to see for granted. But, as per usual with him, things started to get out of hand quickly.

"Baby," Rachel whined, nearly stomping her foot in frustration as her hands steadied themselves on his shoulders. Why did he have to come home tonight? "I _have_ to go."

"No, stay," he pleaded, dropping kisses between her chest and wrapping his hands over her lithe waist. "Kurt sucks."

"It's not just Kurt," she reasoned. "Everyone will be there. Finn and Santana flew in, my _fathers_ said they'd been invited." She shook her head. "I still haven't figured out _why_ Kurt is throwing such an extravagant party, but he rarely needs a reason so …"

"It's for us."

Rachel blinked, though her confusion was lost on him as he continued to meander tantalizingly down her body. "Excuse me?"

"The party's for us," he repeated, his eyes moving off her new tattoo and locking with hers just as his grin started to emerge. "So, see. We can be as late as we want."

"W-wha … why on Earth do we need a party?

"Fuck if I know." He shrugged casually, lacing his fingers with hers and tilting his head back even more so he could watch her more clearly. "I just told the dude we should all hang out if you said yes and things spiraled out of control."

The silence in the space was deafening and Puck prayed she couldn't feel his hands shaking. He'd hoped because he'd been planning this for so long that he wouldn't have been so nervous, but no such luck. Everything he'd never known he'd always needed rested entirely on the next thing she said, and he swore time stood still just to test whether or not he actually would pass out. Leave it to him be take on seven-foot-plus guys on the court every day without so much as batting an eyelash and instead be intimidated as fuck standing in front of a 100-pound theater chick.

"Say yes?" She asked, thinking she'd misheard or misunderstood what he was trying to tell her. He couldn't possibly be implying what she thought.

"I know ya get to ask me a question for the new tat, but I've been meaning to ask you one for awhile now." His thumb toyed with her ring finger, wishing he'd been smart enough to get the ring from its hiding spot upstairs before she'd gotten home. "Will you marry me?"

Rachel felt her heart stop, her breath caught in her throat. Kurt had been planning this party for months, which meant _Noah_ had been planning this for months. Every random conversation they'd had in the recent past regarding marriage and prenups and just _everything_. It had all been leading up to this. "The party … is an engagement party?"

"Well that kinda depends on you," he reminded, wondering how his voice got so soft. Or maybe it just sounded soft over the thunderous beat of his heart.

"You said you didn't want to attend."

"Well, I don't," he confessed, frustrated at the amount of time it was taking her to get to the point. "I still say we celebrate in the shower beforehand. Ya know, if you want to … celebrate."

"Of course I do!" She rushed, realizing she hadn't given him an answer. Yanking him forward as she moved closer, her lips crashed against his in an effort to express just how much she wanted this; she'd been thinking about it all day - more and more since _he_ started talking about it months prior. One night between them hadn't been good enough, and she was fairly certain one lifetime wouldn't be enough either. But it was a good start. "Of course. Yes!"

The weight of the world lifted off his relatively broad shoulders, his anxiety instantly replaced with his typical swagger. "I'm pretty sure that was to the big question, but where exactly did we land on the shower sex?"

Rachel rolled her eyes but felt her beaming smile twist uncommonly, the twinkle in her eyes no doubt shining bright before she winked and turned to start walking up the stairs. "Why don't you follow me and find out?"

Puck chuckled deeply, hesitating in his climb to chase after her only to growl, "Game on, Berry."


End file.
